


Morale

by Pixie (magnetgirl)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen, Tom Paris Day, canon adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7930429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetgirl/pseuds/Pixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Tom Paris Day prompt: Tom/Tuvok convo during Resolutions where Tuvok reminds Tom he should be first officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morale

Tom took a breath, counted to ten, and … took another breath. He stood just outside the sensor range of the Captain’s Ready Room — the doors didn’t open, but it was clear to anyone watching he intended to go in. And very soon it would be clear to anyone watching he didn’t want to. Not that they’d blame him. The whole ship was a bit reticent about approaching Captain Tuvok.

But Tom was hesitant because he hadn’t stepped into the Captain’s Ready Room since Tuvok had assumed command. And he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see Captain Tuvok at her desk. In her chair. Taking up her space. It was bad enough dealing with him sitting in her chair on the bridge. Tom knew exactly how many steps it took Kathryn Janeway to get from her chair to his, he could read her mood based on how quickly she walked it. He didn’t want to learn these things about Captain Tuvok. But it would be even worse in the Ready Room. The Ready Room was the Captain’s personal space.

Tom took a breath, counted to ten, and closed the gap between himself and the Ready Room door. He walked between the doors as they swished open automatically and stood with shoulders back and hands clasped, eyes straight ahead, focused on the wall, not the man in her seat. Captain Tuvok looked up as the doors closed behind Tom.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, Lieutenant, please take a seat.” At Tuvok’s gesture Tom moved into the room and sat in the chair opposite the Vulcan.

“I presume you know why I have asked to speak with you.”

“Uh…” Tom forced himself to look at Tuvok directly. “I, well, no, sir.” It’s possible — plausible — the Vulcan had noticed Tom’s reticence towards him, or his melancholy about the whole situation. But honestly, the entire crew was sulking about the situation and Tom hadn’t said or done anything overt, not compared to some of what he’d seen from others.

Tuvok eyebrows moved infinitesimally closer together — he frowned. “It has been 13.628 days since Voyager left New Earth. I have noticed certain signs of low morale in the crew and I am …concerned.”

Tom’s frown was much more pronounced than Tuvok’s. And tinged with something resembling rage. “It’s been barely two weeks since we left the Captain behind to die, I think everyone’s emotions are working just fine.”

Tuvok pursed his lips. “We left the Captain and Commander behind to live,” he countered. “But your — emotions — are what I am hoping to utilize.”

“ _My_ emotions?”

Tuvok nodded. “Mr. Paris, Voyager needs a first officer.”

“Voyager needs—“ Tom broke off as Tuvok’s words broke through his annoyance. “What?”

“A first officer,” Tuvok repeated.

“You don’t mean…” Tom looked at the Vulcan as if he’d lost his mind. Because he was pretty sure he had. “ _Me_?”

“That is precisely what I mean.”

“But…” Tom shook his head, unable to narrow down the thousands of reasons why he should not be first officer enough to voice any.

“You are the next highest ranking officer in the bridge crew.”

“What about B’Elanna?”

“You have seniority—“

“By like a day!”

“—and more importantly,” Tuvok continued, “as Chief Engineer, Ms. Torres’ focus should be Engineering, particularly as we do not have access to regular maintenance at a Starbase.”

Well, that was — logical. Tom took a breath before answering. “I’ll screw it up, Tuvok. That’s what I do.”

Tuvok sat back in the chair, briefly, annoyingly, resembling Janeway. “I am well aware of your record, Lieutenant. I watched you closely during our first months in the Delta Quadrant. I had considered you a risk. However, in the past year you have been an exemplary, if unconventional, officer.”

Tom blinked. Even when he’d been working undercover and having regular private meetings with the Captain and her security officer, he’d never gotten the impression Tuvok had seen him as anything but a means to an end.

“Moreover,” the Vulcan continued, “I have known Kathryn Janeway for more than fifteen years and consider her a close friend. I trust her judgement as I do my own and she recommended you for the position.”

Tom’s mouth dropped open. “What? I… when?”

“The Captain and I of course had many discussions about the crew prior to our losing contact with New Earth.”

“…Of course.”

“Captain Janeway has great faith in you.”

Tom felt his lip trembling. Dammit he was _not_ going to cry in front of Tuvok. He clenched a fist under the table, forcing his emotions away. The weird thought that he was, well, acting like a Vulcan popped into his mind but he pushed it aside to focus on speaking. Without crying.

“What about you?”

Tuvok paused. “I look forward to working with you.”

Tom nodded. It was probably the best response he could expect. “Okay. I look forward to working with you, too.”

Tuvok made a notation on the PADD in front of him and passed it to Tom. “Please review this manifest. We will meet again at 08:00 tomorrow morning.”

Tom nodded and took the PADD. “Yes, sir.” He stood and made his way to the door, but paused before the threshold. “Tuvok…”

“Yes, Mr. Paris?”

Tom turned to meet his eyes. “If Captain Janeway recommended me before we left why did it take 13-point-6-5…”

“13.628 days.”

“Yeah, why did it take that long for you to tell me?”

Tuvok clasped his hands together. “As I mentioned earlier, I have noticed certain signs of low morale in the crew since we realized the gravity of Captain Janeway’s situation, and subsequently left New Earth. I believed a period of mourning was admissible, perhaps vital, and your promotion at this time may appear to be a response to observed tensions and therefore positively affect crew morale.”

Tom took this in. “You’re saying you…allowed the crew to direct their frustrations at you, so when I’m made first officer my transition is easier for both me and the crew?”

Tuvok nodded. “Yes.”

A smile broke across Tom’s face, his first real smile in weeks. Tuvok wasn’t so out of touch as he pretended. “Thanks, Captain.”

“One does not thank logic, Commander.”

“Of course not.” Tom turned to return to the bridge. Nothing was better, not really. But maybe, someday, it could be.


End file.
